


General Command

by shadowmaat



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Codywan Week, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Role Reversal, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25679317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/pseuds/shadowmaat
Summary: Written for Codywan Week 2020:Day 1: Hurt/ComfortDay 2: Fix-itDay 3: Role Swap/ReversalDay 4: Time TravelDay 5: FluffDay 6: Fantasy AUDay 7: Sith AU
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 46
Kudos: 398





	1. Hardheaded (Day 1: Hurt/Comfort)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There needs to be more "Jedi caring for clones" fics in the world, so I'm doing my small part.

Post-battle, Obi-Wan looked up to find the 212th’s medic, Patch, approaching him.

“I’m fine, Patch,” he said. “I’ve already been bandaged up. See?” He held up his arm for inspection, but the medic shook his head.

“Not you, sir, it’s the Commander.”

Ice-water flooded his veins. “Is he alright?”

“We just need your help to corral him,” Patch said. He turned, setting a fast pace for the edge of camp. “You might be the only one who can do something.”

"Corral? I mean, of course, anything to help.” He followed along, trying to leech his worries into the Force. Cody was probably fine, but he could be stubborn as a bantha about being seen to by Patch before the rest of the men were taken care of. Obi-Wan tended to be the same way. It was yet another reason they were such a good match.

There was a loose semicircle of men facing off against something Obi-Wan couldn’t see. He heard the crack of plastoid-on-plastoid and the men parted as Wooley came flying backwards, skidding to a stop in the dirt.

“Didn’t work,” he wheezed, struggling to sit up.

Through the break, Obi-Wan could now see Cody. The Commander was hunched in a defensive position, his armor streaked with dirt and- and blood. His helmet was cracked but still holding together.

Patch grabbed his arm before he could go to him.

“He obviously has a concussion,” Patch said. “And he seems to be reliving an old training exercise. He’s already taken down three-” he paused, glancing at where Wooley was being helped to his feet by Porg and Trapper. “-Four men. I need to get him in my tent, but none of us can get near him.”

“And you believe I can?”

Patch wasn’t wearing his helmet and the look he leveled at Obi-Wan was enough to bring heat to his cheeks. Some of the men had... misconceptions about himself and his Commander. Denying them only seemed to strengthen those beliefs, and the worst part was, well, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have minded if they’d been true. Cody was clever and competent and had a mind sharper than anyone else he knew, including himself. He had a dry sense of humor, more kindness than anyone realized, and a rare smile that lit up the room. Obi-Wan admired him more than was proper, given the imbalance in their relationship, but he’d never try to take advantage of that.

Besides, it wasn’t as if Cody saw him as anything other than a Jedi General and possibly a friend. He cleared his throat.

“I’ll do my best.”

The men cleared a path for him. He approached Cody slowly, hands away from his sides to show he had no weapons. He felt the moment his Commander’s attention latched onto him; it felt like being caught in a tractor beam.

“Cody?” He took another step forward. “It’s General Kenobi. Will you allow me to approach.”

“General, sir.” Cody’s voice was harsher than usual. He was swaying in place. “You shouldn’t be here! I need to finish this. Prove I’m worthy.”

“Of course you’re worthy, Cody.” Another step closer. “You’ve always been worthy. You and all your _vode_.”

Red streaks stained one pauldron, the one on the same side as the cracks in the helmet. Obi-Wan took a calming breath, reminding himself that head wounds bled a lot.

“Nuh-uh.” Cody shook his head, his whole body wobbling with it. “S’not what the trainers say.”

He sounded impossibly young, and Obi-Wan’s heart ached with it.

“Well, _I_ say...” 

One more step brought him into kicking range. He saw Cody’s stance shift and the Force whispered a warning. He ducked, surging forward to catch the Commander as he staggered forward.

“Easy there, dearest,” he murmured, the endearment slipping out without his say-so. “I’ve got you now.”

Cody shuddered, his hands coming to rest on Obi-Wan’s hips. “Promise?”

“I promise.” 

He used the Force to unclasp Cody’s helmet and remove it. The thing fell apart before he could set it on the ground.

There was a deep gash in Cody’s head, just behind the scar he already had. Blood smeared his face, but those golden brown eyes seemed to bore into Obi-Wan, the mismatched pupils confirming Patch’s diagnosis.

“You can stand down, Commander,” he said, reaching up to trace his fingers under the gash, sending what little Force healing he had into the injury.

Cody’s eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned forward until his forehead was touching Obi-Wan’s.

 _“Ner Jetii,”_ he murmured.

 _“Ner Al’verde,”_ Obi-Wan whispered back.

The quiet applause behind him made his face burn, but he wasn’t about to move. The Force hummed around him and he thought that maybe, just maybe, things weren’t as hopeless as he’d thought.


	2. Small Change (Day 2: Fix-it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change doesn't have to be big in order to have lasting consequences.

It seemed like such a small thing at the time, but even small things can have big consequences.

He’d never been fond of wearing armor, finding it too much of an encumbrance when he fought. He’d routinely ignored the pleas of his Commander. Except this time. Cody had reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder, and said “Please? Consider it a trial run.” 

And then he’d smiled. Obi-Wan had opened his mouth to turn down the offer, but found himself saying “yes” instead. Cody had all but glowed with his success, and Obi-Wan’s heart had beat a little faster.

It wasn’t as if it he was going into a battle, anyway, he was still on Coruscant. Except one thing had led to another and suddenly he and Anakin were squaring off against Dooku while the Chancellor cowered in the background.

His memory got hazy after that. He remembered being knocked out of the fight by Dooku, but instead of being rendered unconscious or even dead, the armor had protected him enough to leave him dazed. By the time he’d gathered his wits back together, Anakin had disarmed Dooku and had two sabers in a scissor-hold at the Sith’s neck.

_“Do it!”_

The words still rattled through his head sometimes, usually in his nightmares. Palpatine, urging Anakin to kill Dooku. To _murder_ a man in cold blood.

“Are you alright, sir?”

Obi-Wan was startled from his thoughts, looking over to see Cody standing beside him, uncomfortable in his dress greys.

“I’m fine, Cody,” he said, smiling at the Commander’s dubious look, which shifted into something he couldn’t quite read.

“You, ah, can lean against me if you need to.”

The armor had protected him, but between the fight, the crashing ship, and the explosion of Dark energy that had erupted when Dooku and Palpatine had killed each other, he was still severely battered. Warmth flooded through him as he shifted a little closer, taking Cody up on his offer.

“Thank you,” he said, reaching up to grab Cody’s shoulder as he pressed himself against his side.

After a brief hesitation, Cody’s arm slid behind his back, coming to rest on his hip. Obi-Wan tried to convince himself that the ache in his chest was simply from his still-healing ribs, but he knew better.

The Council had decided not to reveal that the elected leader of the Galactic Republic was a Sith Lord, though Obi-Wan had misgivings about that. Anakin was not handling things well and was currently restricted to the Temple, receiving some much-needed therapy.

Interim Chancellor Bail Organa had immediately ordered a cease-fire to see if negotiations could be made with the CIS. Grievous was still on the loose somewhere and no one knew if or how long the current reprieve might last, but for the first time since the war began it looked like peace might be a distinct possibility.

Obi-Wan held his breath as he realized Cody was nuzzling his hair. Maybe peace wasn’t the only possibility on the horizon. All because he’d decided to heed his Commander at last and put on some damn armor.

Soft strains of harp music filled the air as the funeral for Chancellor Palpatine began.


	3. Swap Day (Day 3: Role Reversal)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decided to stick with the easiest path on this one. Also featuring more Cody whump.

“If I hear one more joke about me holding the General’s lightsaber, you’re all on latrine duty til the end of the war!” Cody’s warning was kept to the squad frequency; no need to let the General know his men were incorrigible. Well, no need to give him any more proof, anyway.

Snickers answered him, but at least there were no more comments about giving the saber a good polish or “reminding” him to keep a firm grip on the shaft.

It was all Kenobi’s fault, of course. Or, rather, it was all Skywalker’s fault for suggesting the bet in the first place, though his General should have known better than to accept; Skywalker cheated.

The end result was that Cody and his General had to trade weapons for the day. Thankfully, it was only weapons; Skywalker had argued hard for robes and armor to be exchanged as well, but Kenobi had put his foot down about that.

Cody wasn’t disappointed, nope. The thought of seeing his General walking around in his armor did nothing for him, not at all. And wearing his General’s clothes? That was a bit much, even if he knew from experience that the outer robe was soft and warm. The experience of lugging it around, that is. That’s all. He certainly didn’t keep any of the discarded robes; that would be weird.

The day had started with lightsaber lessons. The General had shown him a few of the more basic moves, his hands touching here and there to correct Cody’s posture. Also not worth thinking about. He’d returned the favor by showing Kenobi how to use his deece, though he got the distinct feeling that despite all the sniffing about them being “uncivilized,” his General was already fairly familiar with their basic use. 

It should have been a quiet day. There’d been a lull in the fighting and rumor had it that the Seppies were pulling back. It was one of the reasons the bet had taken place. Luck, however, wasn’t with them. Was it ever?

Later that afternoon a battalion of droids descended on their position. There was no time to trade weapons back with his General, so Cody simply forged ahead, swinging the saber back and forth and felling droids with every step. It was a little envigorating. He turned to see Kenobi calmly headshotting droids, pausing to switch units, and then launching grenades into the oncoming ranks. It was... Okay, it was hot. In the privacy of his own head, he could admit that. Watching his General fire _his_ blaster with pinpoint accuracy and making it look easy? Kriff, that was hot. Some of the troopers seemed to agree with him, and he had to remind them to keep it down. 

Naturally that’s when General Grievous appeared, racing straight toward the saberless Jedi.

“General!”

Skywalker and Tano were on the other side of a mass of droids; there’d be no help from that quarter, not in time. Heart in his throat, Cody ran, urging every bit of strength into his legs. He thought he felt a whisper of- something- and his speed picked up a little more. 

“Grievous! Haven’t you taken something for that cough, yet?” His Jedi was firing steadily, but the metal bastard was deflecting every shot with his stolen lightsabers.

“That pea-shooter can’t hurt me!” Grievous paused, coughing. “You’re making this too easy, Kenobi!” His second set of arms extended, holding sabers of their own. 

Cody took a flying leap and landed on Grievous’s back, not even pausing to think as he plunged his General’s saber straight down and punched the bastard for good measure.

Grievous screamed, arching back and flinging Cody off. His helmet hit something hard, stunning him. He could hear a barrage of blaster fire and struggled to make his limbs work. Obi-Wan was in danger! He had to do something.

“Cody!”

He managed to get back on his feet just in time for something to slam into him. Arms wrapped around him, and the few rattled brain cells still working stopped him from igniting the saber again.

“Cody, are you alright?”

It was Obi-Wan. His General.

“Sir, are you alright?” His hand was shaking as he reached out to touch Obi-Wan’s head. His face looked wet, but not with blood. Water. Tears?

Obi-Wan was babbling- babbling!- as he started undoing the clasps on Cody’s helmet and tossing it aside.

“You crazy, impossible man!” Obi-Wan was grinning. At _him_. “You did it! You killed him!”

“What?” Cody tried to shake his head, but Obi-Wan was holding it. And then Obi-Wan was pulling him forward. And then Obi-Wan was kissing him. Moaning, he returned the kiss, not really sure what was happening, but very very glad to be part of it.

Obi-Wan pulled back, breaking the kiss. “I’m so sorry, Commander. I shouldn’t have taken advan-”

Cody kissed him, one hand curling into that soft, glorious hair so his General couldn’t escape him again. There were cheers and wolf whistles around them, along with the sound of panicking droids calling for a retreat. He tuned it all out, trailing kisses along Obi-Wan’s face and nuzzling into his neck.

Obi-Wan hummed, the sound sending a shiver right down his spine. “I should have given you my lightsaber a long time ago.”

“Yeah? And you can borrow my blaster anytime. Uh, sir.” He pulled back just enough to admire his General’s laugh, grinning at the sight. A thought nagged at him.

“Wait,” he said. “What happened to Grievous?”

“You did, my dear.” Obi-Wan reached down, tracing the scar around his eye. “You most definitely did.”


	4. Meddlesome (Day 4: Time Travel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time travel fics almost always feature the Big Players and we generally get things from the traveler's POV. I decided to do something a little more... chaotic.
> 
> Warning: contains high doses of Hondo Ohnaka.

Cody’s head felt like it was trying to hatch. He reached up to check that it wasn’t only to find that his hands had been bound. Drunk tank? Didn’t seem likely, and Fox might be a bastard, but he was kinder to his brothers than this, and he would know better than to strip Cody of his armor. His pillow was comfortable, at least, although that was alarming, for some reason.

Hands shifted against his back, and his pillow vibrated with a groan.

“Hondo.”

Obi-Wan. His General. Right, that damned pirate had commed, saying he’d captured Dooku and-

He rolled fast, earning an “oof” as his elbow dug into Obi-Wan’s stomach. His attempt to stand failed, however, as the arms wrapped around him were also bound.

“Hello, my good friends!” Hondo’s voice boomed, driving spikes into Cody’s brain. “I trust you both slept well, yes?” The chuckle was entirely too smug.

“The accommodations are lacking, but at least the company was pleasant,” Obi-Wan said. “Until now. Hondo, what is the meaning of this?”

Cody’s face burned at his General’s comment. _He was pleasant company?_ What did that mean? Probably nothing, given the situation. He turned his head to glare at the pirate standing outside their cell.

“Yes, yes, service can always be improved.” Hondo waved a hand. “But the important thing is that you are both here, together and alive! Isn’t that wonderful?”

“I’ll show _you_ ‘wonderful,’ you karkin’-”

Arms tightened around Cody’s waist and he swallowed the rest of his insult with a huff.

“Where is Count Dooku?” Obi-Wan sounded as if he was asking for the weather report. “I’m sure that was the reason we’re here.”

A throat cleared behind them, but Cody’s view was blocked by Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“I really had hoped for better from you, Obi-Wan,” Dooku intoned.

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said. “Perhaps the company wasn’t quite as pleasant as I imagined.”

“And now that everyone is awake, the bargaining can begin!” Hondo applauded himself.

Cody winced at the sound, leaning back to get away from it. Except it meant he was leaning back against his General, who resettled his arms and rested his chin on Cody’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Cody,” Obi-Wan murmured in his ear. “I’ll get us out of this.”

Cody’s skin prickled as he flashed hot and cold. The lack of armor was only making the situation more... _more_. The headache from whatever Hondo had hit them with was starting to wear off, but that was leaving him unpleasantly aware of every little touch. He struggled to remember his lessons on shielding his mind.

“Come, come!” Hondo unlocked the cell door. “There’s caf and pastries awaiting you in the executive boardroom!”

It took some coordination for Cody and Obi-Wan to figure out how to stand. Cody’s arms were looped through Obi-Wan’s, who had been tied snugly around Cody. To what end, only Hondo knew. There was also a cord around their waists that linked them to Dooku. The expression on what Cody could see of his face could have stripped hull plating off a capital ship.

“I hardly see the point of these theatrics,” Dooku said.

“Come now, Count,” Obi-Wan said. “I seem to recall you being quite a patron of the theater once upon a time.”

“Those days are long past,” Dooku replied frostily.

Cody followed Hondo, his General snug against his back. Was it his imagination or was Obi-Wan leaning into him just the slightest bit? Right, just his imagination.

The “executive boardroom,” as Hondo called it... actually looked like a boardroom. While the rest of the pirate’s lair was grimy and featured a lot of stonework, the boardroom was wood-paneled, bright, and airy. It was also studded with high-quality jammers, far better than the stuff they got in the GAR. He could feel Obi-Wan’s quick intake of breath, and his beard rubbed against the back of Cody’s neck as his head turned from side to side.

“This is... quite the setup for a pirate,” Obi-Wan said, a sudden note of wariness in his voice. Cody could only agree. What had they gotten into, this time? Why in the Great Storms would _Hondo Ohnaka_ , of all people, have such a sophisticated setup?

“Indeed,” Dooku said, somewhere behind them. “I wouldn’t have thought it possible for one of your caliber.”

“It’s impressive, is it not?” Hondo spread his arms wide, grinning. “I would be happy to sell you some of my surplus, once our business is concluded.” He reached out to pat Cody’s shoulder. “And for my good friends of the Republic, I might even offer the tiniest of discounts!” 

Cody tried to swat the hand away, but the binders prevented him.

“Sit! Sit!” Hondo gestured at the leather hoverchairs placed around the enormous wooden table. There were indeed pastries and a pot of caf as well as the implements for a cup of tea.

“Perhaps if you untied us sitting might be easier,” Obi-Wan said, breathing against Cody’s ear.

“Bah! Your dear Commander can sit in your lap. It saves space and the two of you look so charming together! Don’t you agree, Dooku?” Hondo’s grin was wolfish.

“If by ‘charming’ you mean undignified and highly unprofessional, then yes,” Dooku said.

Cody longed for his armor, especially his helmet. He had a good sabacc face, but the look Hondo gave him seemed like it saw right through him. He swallowed.

“I’m not sitting on the General’s lap,” he said, grateful that his voice remained steady.

“He speaks!” Hondo clapped a hand to his chest in mock surprise. “And so earnest, too! I can see why you like him so much, Kenobi.”

“Get to the point, Hondo,” Obi-Wan said, his voice unusually sharp.

Cody tried to turn his head to get a look at him, but only got a beard in his ear.

“No matter what time we are in, you are always trying to ruin my fun.” With a heavy sigh, Hondo approached, pulling out a keystick for the binders. “I should warn you that the room is heavily fortified, locked, and contains suppressors to inhibit Force users, so please, do not try anything foolish.”

As soon as the binders were off, Cody took a hasty step away from his Jedi. He also managed, with a monumental surge of willpower, not to punch Hondo’s teeth through the back of his head.

Obi-Wan was attempting to un-muss his robes and wouldn’t look up.

“How long have you been planning this?” Dooku was frowning, rubbing his wrists.

“Many, many years, my friend.”

Cody dragged his attention away from Obi-Wan and back to Hondo. The perpetual cheeriness had drained from the pirate’s voice, leaving him sounding almost weary. His answer didn’t make any sense, though, unless he’d been planning this since before the war started.

“Sit! And don’t let all this good food go to waste!” Hondo sprawled in the chair at the head of the table, some of his old spark returning.

“You’ll forgive us if we remain suspicious of any offerings of food or drink.” Obi-Wan sat in the nearest chair, and after a brief hesitation, Cody sat beside him. The Count bracketed Obi-Wan on the other side.

“Pshh!” Hondo waved his hand dismissively. “That was before and this is now. I give you my word as a pirate and a rebel in good- mostly good- standing that everything in this room is safe to eat!”

“Rebel?” Cody repeated, confused. That didn’t fit with the pirate’s profile, unless he was rebelling against authority.

Obi-Wan pulled one of the pastry trays closer. “Alderaanian malla bites?” He picked up one of the little squares dusted with white powder and popped it in his mouth. “Very good.”

“Sir, we don’t know if it’s safe.” Cody frowned at him, but Obi-Wan merely pushed the plate in his direction.

“Try one, Cody. They’re very sweet, and if Hondo wanted to incapacitate us again, he likely wouldn’t use the same trick twice.”

“Not in a row, at least,” Hondo agreed. “Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I gathered you all here today...”

Cody took a reluctant nibble of one of the malla bites. It was, as Obi-Wan had said, sweet, though not overpowering. He continued to nibble as Hondo told a meandering and bombastic tale of how he found himself in a unique situation and set about exploiting it to his own benefit, racking up huge profits by knowing which plans wouldn’t work and what freighters were vulnerable at which times. It felt like he was talking circles around something without actually mentioning it, but at last he swiveled his chair towards Obi-Wan and smiled.

“So, my dear Jedi, how much would your Order be willing to pay for the identity of the Sith Lord behind the war?”

There was a choking sound and Cody looked back to see Count Dooku dabbing his mouth with an embroidered napkin. Obi-Wan, meanwhile, had on what Cody considered his “game face:” a vague look of polite interest to mask the frantically spinning gears in his head.

“If the information could be properly vetted and lead to an arrest, I imagine the Senate would-”

“No!” Hondo slapped a hand on the table, his amiable mask turning to something fierce. “Not the Senate, you! Your Order! What would the Jedi pay to put a stop to this before it’s too late?”

“Whatever wild spacer tales you’ve picked up while enebriated...” Dooku started to say.

“I picked up first hand!” Hondo glared at him. “You play this game, thinking you’re so clever, but me? I’ve seen how it ends, so now I’m going to stack the deck in someone else’s favor!”

His grin reminded Cody that for all of Hondo’s silly theatrics, he was still a dangerous man.

“Me! Hondo Ohnaka! Pirate King ans Savior of the Universe!” He grinned. “It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Cody glanced at Obi-Wan, feeling as if he was missing several pages from the script.

Obi-Wan stroked his beard. “I’m not sure what you’ve been told, Hondo, but the Jedi Order is not particularly rich. We depend upon-”

“Honorary Jedi Master Hondo Ohnaka,” Hondo said, spinning lazily in his chair. “Now that would be an accomplishment to make Mama proud! Confused and suspicious, yes, but also proud!”

Cody was looking at his Jedi and had the privilege of seeing Obi-Wan Kenobi, famed Negotiator, look non-plussed and at a loss for words.

“I... beg your pardon?”

“Since when does a pirate care about something other than credits?” Cody asked.

Dooku, meanwhile, had stood and begun to pace. He tried the door, found it locked, and paced some more.

“This is ridiculous!” He said. “Is this a ransom or not?”

Hondo ignored him and focused on Cody instead.

“A pirate can care about more than mere credits, my dear Commander, just as a Field Marshal Commander can dream of more than war.” The goggles magnified his eyes, and so Cody caught the way his gaze flickered briefly to Obi-Wan. “And when you have lived as long as I have, you learn to appreciate the little things in life,” he continued. “And more credits, of course! So very many credits!”

Obi-Wan was frowning, though if he’d noticed the look Hondo gave him, he wasn’t showing it. “I hadn’t realized your age was so advanced,” he said.

Hondo flicked his fingers. “What is age but a number? And numbers, Kenobi, numbers can always lie. So about that Mastership...”

“That isn’t how it works, Hondo.” Obi-Wan huffed. “But either way, I’d still have to speak to the Council and the Chancellor before-”

“No!” Hondo’s expression had gone sharp again. “Are you not the most decorated High General of the GAR? Whatever you decide, I’m sure your Council will be happy to agree.”

It was Cody’s turn to frown. His General _was_ gaining notoriety, that was true, but Most Decorated? The nagging sense that something was off grew stronger. Everything he’d read about Hondo Ohnaka prior to this farce of a mission had said that he was a cunning and occasionally ruthless pirate, one who’d rocketed through the ranks due to some well-timed ambushes and, of all things, shrewd investing. There’d been no indication of him having a particular interest in politics or the Jedi, and while he’d been known to sell information before, it was always for credits, not honorary titles. The name of the Sith Lord who’d been fueling the CIS movement could earn him untold riches. So why this?

Lightning crackled through the air. Instinct had Cody launching himself at his Jedi, dragging him from his chair and pinning him to the floor.

“I demand you release me at once!” Count Dooku snapped.

Hondo was patting down his lightly-smoking coat, looking none the worse himself. “You would use your little finger lightning on me? How uncivilized!” He glanced at Cody and Obi-Wan, his grin rakish and undeterred.

Realizing that he was now on top of his General, Cody rolled off, muttering an apology as his heart twisted and face burned.

“I know all of your little tricks, my good Count,” Hondo said, still seated. “Just as I know that your Master will eventually sacrifice you to gain power over his true Apprentice and eventually the whole galaxy!” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Is that truly the future you want?”

Dooku had gone stock still, staring at Hondo. “His true- you can’t possibly know anything about it.”

“What the kriff is going on here?” Cody muttered, accepting a hand up from Obi-Wan, whose face was a study in poorly-masked confusion.

“That’s something I’d like to know as well, Commander,” he said.

“Ugh!” Hondo flung his arms out and groaned. “This being a goody-goody is so boring! Kenobi, how did you do it all the time without going mad? Fine, fine, you twist my arm.” He spun, pointing at Obi-Wan. “You will owe me so many favors! And you will spend the rest of your very long and happy life trying to pay them all off!”

“He’s mad,” Dooku said. “Mad and an imbecile.”

“Go off and investigate your Emperor Palpatine,” Hondo said. “Or Chancellor. Or Lord Sidious. Whatever you wish to call him, go and handle it for me because he’s going to make pirating so unpleasant!”

“Emperor... what? Who’s Sid-” Cody broke off as Obi-Wan’s hand latched onto his wrist. He glanced over to see his General staring at Count Dooku.

Dooku had gone white. Well, _whiter_. Shock was written openly on his face, so much so that his mouth had actually fallen open. It would have been comical if not for the implications.

Cody could feel his headache returning. This was going to be a long, messy day. And probably a long, messy everything after, too. He reached for another of the pastry bites on the table; might as well eat while he could.

He felt Obi-Wan’s grip on his wrist loosen, only to slide down so that they were now holding hands. He froze, his gaze unfortunately on Hondo, who had the audacity to wink at him.

There wasn’t enough caf in the galaxy to deal with this. Slowly, his heart racing, he allowed his fingers to lace through Obi-Wan’s. As bad as this was likely to get, at least he wasn’t doing it alone.


	5. Taking Initiative (Day 5: Fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff is one of my favorite things to write, so this is very self-indulgent and incredibly fluffy.

Cody looked up as his door slid open, squinting as the bright light of the corridor intruded on his dimly-lit quarters. The bundle in his arms squirmed, grumbling a soft complaint.

“Sorry,” Obi-Wan whispered, as the door slid shut again. “How is she?”

“Asleep, finally.” Cody smiled down at the young nautolan they’d discovered while on a mission. Or, rather, she’d found them. One minute he’d been arguing with the General over the directions they’d been given and the next there was a youngling attached to his leg and stuff in nearby stalls had begun to levitate.

He’d let Obi-Wan do all the talking since the girl, Fia, refused to be parted from him. She said his _tastefeel_ was squishy, like marshmallows in Hoth chocolate. It earned him a lot of razzing from the other troopers and Obi-Wan’s grin had been far too delighted, but it was hard to stay mad about it.

She’d been a bundle of energy all day long, asking endless questions and dragging them on a tour of her favorite places in town: bakery, pet emporium, knife-sharpening stall, and a fountain where flocks of birds gathered. Waxer and Boil had taken over the mission from them and had completed it without mishap before they even made it back to the ship. It was nothing short of a miracle, and Cody was considering having the duo take over all of Obi-Wan’s little “side missions.” The only casualties of the day were a couple of clay pots Fia had broken with her impromptu levitation trick, and a steady stream of credits at the various locales they’d visited.

“I can see why young Fia thinks you’re squishy,” Obi-Wan teased.

Cody made a rude gesture he probably couldn’t see and shifted to make room for him on the bunk. His General sat beside him, back propped against the wall, but their arms and legs touching. Cody flushed warm as Obi-Wan leaned even closer, brushing his fingers against Fia’s brow.

“You’re very good with her,” he murmured.

“I had a lot of practice helping out with the younger _vode_.” Trying not to sound too pleased at the compliment, he tilted his head to look at Obi-Wan, only to realize the General’s face was right there, even if his attention was focused on the youngling in Cody’s arms. He held his breath.

“You ever think about having one of your own someday, Cody?”

Obi-Wan’s gaze shifts to him and his thoughts go into a tailspin. 

“Me?? I... That wouldn’t...” The intensity of the moment is too much to bear, but he can’t seem to turn his head away.

“Perhaps I’ll get a Padawan.” Obi-Wan’s fingers brush against Cody’s knuckles, sending little jolts of electricity through him. “Would you help me raise her?”

“Of course, sir.” It’s the only thing he _can_ say, though the ache in his chest from the sheer truth of it is overwhelming. There is nothing he’d love more, except maybe-

“Obi-Wan.”

Their noses are touching. It’s getting harder to think.

“I like to hope we’re at the point where you can use my first name, Cody.”

He opens his mouth, and at first, nothing comes out. After a few rattling heartbeats, he finds his voice again. “Of course... Obi-Wan.”

That smile goes right through him.

“May I...” A hand reaches up, fingers brushing against his temple. “May I kiss you? Please?”

He almost loses his voice again, but manages a rough “yeah,” and then they’re kissing. It’s tender, but intense, and the prickle of Obi-Wan’s beard against his mouth sends little shivers through him.

The weight in his arms shifts and he hears a little giggle. Small hands reach up, tugging Obi-Wan’s wrist down so his hand covers Cody’s. Pure, unshielded joy radiates outward, and Cody smiles into the kiss. He could get used to this.


	6. In the Wood (Day 6: Fantasy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole backstory dropped into my brain, so this one kinda ran away. If I ever get time, I'd love to do more with it. It's a little fantasy, a little supernatural, a nod to Shakespeare, and just dang fun to write.

Obi-Wan Kenobi ran through the night-dark woods, praying to any god who would listen that he wouldn’t brain himself on a tree and save his pursuers the hassle.

“We’re gonna get you, little Jedi,” a rough voice sing-songed behind him, “and when we do, we’re gonna sell you for parts!”

Torch beams slashed through the air as the looters he’d interrupted gave chase. Obi-Wan ducked low branches and jumped rocks; the village was on the edge of the woods, if he could just reach it in time...

His foot came down on air and he went tumbling down into a creek, cracking his head on an exposed root before he came to rest in a trickle of icy water. He tried to stand, willing his limbs to work, but the fall had stunned him.

It would be an ignominious end for him, though there would be those who’d say it had been a long time coming. Obi-Wan had long been a trouble magnet within the dying Jedi Order; an ancient sect of monks dedicated to preserving and protecting the world’s wellsprings of magic.

He wasn’t even supposed to be in Mandalore, let alone near Kaminiise Wood, but one thing had led to another and now here he was, fleeing through a forest long thought to be cursed. Even the Jedi didn’t know much about it, other than that the forest had sprung up around a wellspring. Local legend had it that if Concordia Hill was ever threatened, the wood would rise up and come to it, but the only “threat” Concordia faced was time, and that was a battle everyone lost eventually. The looters had been ransacking the catacombs beneath the castle, where the museum docents had stored some of the more valuable artifacts. Obi-Wan had just been looking for a place to sleep when he literally tripped over them.

Speaking of tripping... He struggled again, managing to sit up despite his swimming head. A hand came to rest on his shoulder and he lashed out automatically, cursing as his hand hit metal.

“Easy,” a soft voice said. “Dost- do you need help, traveler?”

“I- yes, please.” He accepted a hand up. “The men chasing me are-”

“We’re aware.” 

It was hard to see his rescuer, who was backlit by moonlight, but Obi-Wan could see dark hair, a smile that seemed to glow, and... armor? Had he stumbled across a group of LARPers?

“I can help,” he said, trying not to be too dazzled by that smile. “I have a... my sword!” He patted frantically at his belt, but the kyber sword he’d crafted was gone. He turned, intending to head back up the incline, but a warm hand caught his wrist.

“Don’t worry, that soft voice said. “My brothers and I can handle this. It’s why we exist.”

Obi-Wan found himself alone, cold seeping into his waterproof boots. He shivered, suddenly aware that he was cold and wet and lost in the woods. He debated going to look for his sword again when he heard a shout and the clang of metal. Thuds, screams, a gunshot, and the rattle of armor. He stood, frozen, as silence descended again. 

He flinched as the armor-clad figure reappeared beside him.

“The bandits will not bother you again, traveler.”

The hollow was suddenly full of moonlight and Obi-Wan got his first good look at his rescuer.

He was handsome; dark skin streaked with something and a hooked scar around one eye. His smile was warm as he looked Obi-Wan up and down, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help feeling suddenly inadequate and slovenly.

“I, uh, thank you,” he muttered, ducking his head. “I’m sorry, I never got your name.”

“I never got yours,” the man teased.

Heat suffused his cheeks. “Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m very glad to meet you, Mister...?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the man repeated, the very air seeming to shiver with it. “You can call me Cody.” He caught Obi-Wan’s forearm in a firm grip; the greeting of the ancient Mandalorians.

“Cody.” Obi-Wan’s stomach flipped. "I- thank you again. And your brothers.” He glanced aside, but saw no evidence of others in the woods, even in the moonlight. “I should probably get back to the village,” he said, wondering why he was so reluctant to leave. “Warn someone about the break-in.”

“It’s been handled,” Cody said. “I’d feel better if you stayed with us for the night so we can be sure you’re safe.” He reached out, sliding a hand down Obi-Wan’s arm. “There’s a warm fire and a dry cloak for you, if you wish it.”

Oh, Obi-Wan wanted it, he wanted it hard. But...

“I wouldn’t wish to inconvenience you.”

That smile again, and warm fingers against his.

“Consider it part of the services rendered.” Cody helped him up the incline and there was, indeed, a fire waiting in the clearing. “Although I would request a boon of you, if you’re willing.”

“A boon.” Obi-Wan’s heart sank. If Cody expected payment he’d be disappointed at how little there was to be had.

“A kiss,” Cody said. “Just a kiss to balance the scales.”

The wind through the trees sounded like laughter. Cody spared them a glare before returning his attention to Obi-Wan, who stared down into that earnest, rugged face.

Had he fallen from one trap into another? But no, if he extended his senses, all he could feel was hope and a deep-rooted dedication to a cause.

“I suppose one kiss couldn’t hurt,” he said.

Cody cupped his face in his hands and kissed him. He tasted- green- of wild growth and a stormy sea. Obi-Wan clung to him, his mind spinning.

He awoke to the sun in his eyes, alone beside a cold campfire. A warm cloak covered him, the shape and feel of it familiar in a way that nagged. Events of the night before were hazy, though he remembered being chased through the woods and the bright smile of the one who’d saved him.

 _Cody_.

As he sat up, pulling the cloak around him, its familiarity clicked into place: it was a Jedi robe, the kind only used for ceremonial purposes these days, but a tradition that dated back to the founding of the Order.

“Hello?” He staggered to his feet, scanning the woods around him, but they were empty. His foot bumped against something under the leaves and he glanced down to see a familiar gleam.

“My sword!” He snatched it up, checking that both scabbard and blade were undamaged, and then hugged it to his chest. “Thank you,” he breathed, sending his gratitude outward in case Cody was still close enough to feel it.

The rustle of leaves felt like acknowledgement, and Obi-Wan oriented himself by the sun, heading back into the nearby village. 

When he arrived, he made his way to the local library, intent on doing some research. The white-haired woman at the counter took one look at him and ushered him into the back office.

“You’ve been to the Wood,” she said without preamble. “Did you meet one of the Sons of Fett?”

Obi-Wan blinked. “Sons of what?”

Smiling, she gestured for him to sit and sat herself behind an expansive desk piled with books and papers. What followed was part local legend, part history, and entirely captivating.

The Sons of Fett, she said, were warriors of great renown who had rallied under the banner of one of the last Alors of Mandalore: Jango Fett. They were incomparable in battle, and if they hadn’t been betrayed they might have been able to stave off the white colonizers who moved in not long after Jango was assassinated. 

A dark wizard named Sidious sought to enslave Jango and his Sons to help him conquer the world, but an unnamed apprentice managed to twist the spell and make it his own. Instead of becoming deathless soldiers of the Dark they became rooted to the land itself, turning into the trees that make up what is now known as Kaminiise Wood.

Obi-Wan paled at the mention of Sidious; he may not have had the Sons of Fett behind him, but he’d still managed to wipe out more than 3/4 of the Jedi Order who’d stood in defiance of him. It was a tragedy from which the Order had never completely recovered. As for the rest of it...

“I’m sorry, are you saying that the trees are actually _people?!”_

He knew of some transfiguration rituals, but they were difficult and costly to perform and always required a willing subject.

The librarian, Madame Nu, sighed. “I’m afraid so. They’d been promised immortality and they got it, after a fashion, but as is often the case with dark magics, it came at too high a cost.”

Obi-Wan leans back in his chair, trying to process what he’s been told. Kaminiise Wood is made up of people. It’s... He’s never heard of anything like that and yet... the armor Cody had been wearing was an ancient style; it was part of why he’d assumed he was a LARPer. And then there was the matter of the robe. He rubbed the material between thumb and forefinger; soft and warm and most definitely homespun, not the synthetic mix used by the modern Order.

Librarian Nu leaned forward, elbows on her desk. “You’re a Jedi, aren’t you?”

He glanced up at her, unsure what to say. The Jedi were well enough known that even the looters had known what he was when he identified himself, but they were mostly treated as a joke or curiosity.

“The Sons and the Jedi have an interesting history,” she continued. “Sometimes working together, sometimes against each other. If one of them revealed himself to you...”

He decided to change the subject. “How is this curse supposed to work? The stories say that the trees can come to life.”

Come to life and kiss him. His lips still tingled at the memory.

Librarian Nu smiled. “There are a few stories about it. You’re probably familiar with the one about threats to Concordia Castle?”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“It’s a popular one around here, for obvious reasons, although there have been hints through the generations that it isn’t threats to the Castle itself, but to the people. Locals, even travelers who get lost in the woods or face some kind of threat have reported being helped by armored figures who disappear with the rise of the sun.”

That would explain why Cody wasn’t there when he woke up, but even as a Jedi the whole thing felt fantastical. And what had the kiss been about?

“I, myself, met a young man named Gree,” Nu said, interrupting his thoughts. “I’d twisted my ankle on a rock and he was kind enough to lead me to the edge of the wood.” Her eyes were distant, wistful. “So very inquisitive, he was; always ready with another question. He told me they aren’t really ‘awake’ unless called upon, but they retain a vague awareness of their surroundings. It’s how they’ve kept up with shifts in the language.”

“Is there a way to break the curse?” He tried for non-chalant, but judging my Nu’s expression he missed by a lot. “Some way to keep them in their human form?”

“That’s the big question, isn’t it?” She chuckled. “Maybe if you stick around long enough you might find the answer for yourself.”

Obi-Wan smiled. Maybe this village was in need of a Jedi after all.


	7. From Darkness, Rise (Day 7: Sith AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little sloppy, perhaps, and a lot of liberties taken, but I found a way to get a handle on a Sith AU that I actually liked. Also: I dunno who originally came up with the idea of Ignis being Obi-Wan's Sith name, but I love it. Ginger hair, fiery temper (as a kidlet, anyway) and ready to burn bridges.

The man who came to speak to the clones of Kamino was passionate, charming, and above all, convincing. He wasn’t the Jedi they’d been promised, instead he claimed he was _Jen’jidai_ ; a dark Jedi who planned to right a centuries-old wrong by eradicating the Order that had grown complacent in its superiority and complicit in the rise of the Line of Bane.

“Would you rather be slaves to an uncaring leadership who refuses to feel and does nothing to stop the suffering in the universe? Or do you want to fight beside us as brothers, helping us to free the galaxy from tyranny?”

Cody felt a jolt go through him as those bright gold eyes met his. _Yes_ , he thought. _Yes, I’ll fight for you._

It wasn’t as simple as that, of course, but in the end, most of the _vode_ chose to join Darth Ignis, and those who didn’t were... released. Not killed, not forced, just sent to a world where they wouldn’t be called upon to fight unless they chose to.

Darth Ignis, General Ignis, now, was an Apprentice to Darth Xanatos, an arrogant, temperamental man to whom Ignis owed his life. He confessed the story to Cody one night, saying that after the Jedi had cast him aside for being too hot-headed, he’d been sent to be a farmer, only to be caught in a scheme by Xanatos. The Jedi Master who’d been with him chose to leave him behind, saving his own life at the cost of Ignis’s.

The injustice of it burned in Cody’s chest. By that point he was not only Ignis’s most trusted Commander, but his lover as well. Together they burned a path through the Republic, fighting the Jedi the troopers had one been sold to, and routing the Sith Lord from his den within the Senate. The Line of Bane was brought to an ignominious end and the _Jen’jidai_ were on the rise.

There were times, however, when Cody caught a flash of blue in those golden eyes. Often it was late at night or early in the morning, as they shared stories and kisses and planned for the next battle. Sometimes it was after a fight, as Ignis surveyed the field of the dead and wept for their fallen brothers. The _Jen’jidai_ were passionate, but this was an aspect of it Cody hadn’t heard of among the other generals.

Ignis was always kind to Cody and the 212th, and in return they showered him with their love and kindness. Xanatos might be the Supreme Leader of the Jen’jidai, but it was Ignis that most of them followed. Even among the other battalions, Ignis was the one they all looked to and knew would protect them.

Protect them he did, too. Not all the Generals were as sympathetic as Ignis, and when he learned of a General mistreating the clones, he hunted them down and killed them. Punishments from Xanatos weren’t enough to deter him. 

“I promised you freedom, darling,” he told Cody. “And I meant it.”

The blue began to show up more frequently as the war progressed; there were whole days where his eyes stayed the shade of Kamino’s stormy oceans.

The discovery of a ragged group of Jedi Initiates seemed to signal some final change. Ignis let them all go, while condemning the Jedi for sending children out to fight. It was a relief for everyone; the 212th might be loyal to a fault, but killing children, well, it was good to know their General felt the same way they did.

“You should probably kill me, my love,” Ignis said that night, his face buried against Cody’s chest. “I’ve gone weak. The call to the Light is overpowering.” He nuzzled against Cody’s collarbone as hot tears leaked from his eyes. “I’m not fit to be a Sith any longer. And it’s far too late for me to be a Jedi.”

Cody kissed the tears away and pressed their foreheads together. “Be what you need to be, _cyare_ ,” he said. “We follow _you_ , not your Master’s cause.”

Bright blue eyes met his. “You mean it? Xanatos will be furious. He’ll try to have us all killed.”

Cody smiled at him. “Well, he can try.”

Ignis laughed, the sound seeming to dance in the air. “In that case,” he said, “perhaps you’d better start calling me by my real name. Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Obi-Wan.” Cody let the name roll around in his mouth. “It’s nice to meet you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Now, come to bed. We have a Sith Lord to kill in the morning.”


End file.
